Pouncival's Tale
by Milesperhour
Summary: Pouncival has realms of adventure in this poetically confusing comedy epic. What's that? He changed the CAT-egory? Does that mean he's writing another chapter? SHOCK HORROR! ...no. No it doesn't. I just can't think of anything funny. Sorry.
1. Default Chapter

I don't own CATS. Of course I don't. I do, however, own this piece of writing.  
I'd also like to mention that I adore constructive criticism. Please leave some for me, as it can only help to make the story much more enjoyable.  
I would finally like to point out that I adore Douglas Adams and P.G. Wodhouse, and have been told that this is reflected in my style of writing. If you are unaware of one of these authors, I would advise you to immediately find one of their books and start reading. Thank you.

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**Pouncival's Tale**

**Chapter One - An unlikely sighting**

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I always like to make a good impression when telling someone about one of my life's experiences. Because of this, something that I am going to make quite a big deal out of today is to make you all feel at home. Go get yourself a good, strong, hot cup of tea. You can thank me for it later.  
Got it? Good. Now get relaxed in your chair, and don't make the common mistake of suspending your cup of tea in an atomic vector plotter, and then hooking it to the logic circuits of a Bambleweeny 57 sub-meson brain. Sit back and read on... 

So I woke up on a dark Thursday morning. No, wait... Wednesday morning. I remember that it was a Wednesday because Wednesdays tend to have such an in-your-face feel about them. Not to say that Thursdays don't. I certainly don't want to insult a nearby Thursday, that happens to be roaming the perimeter of my den. It's just that Wednesdays have that feeling moreso. It must have been the start of the month too. This is because when a month is started by a Wednesday, the Wednesday immediately feels as if it's king of the world, then deciding that it would be a riot to get on everyone's nerves by forcing the birds to chirp those very annoying songs that they chirp every bloody morning. I hate Wednesdays. If I ever meet the cat that came up with the idea of even having a Wednesday, i'll give him a good smacking.  
Actually, I guess the day itself doesn't matter really, because the events that took place would have no doubt still taken place even if it was, God forbid, a Friday.

I peered my head out the window, and saw that nobody was awake yet. Good. I prefer it when nobody is about. I can just laze about like the real cat that I am.  
I only had one thing in mind that morning. I was going to go to my chair. Due to my chair being the highest place in the junkyard, everyone seems to try and get up there when I'm not around.

So whenever somebody is sitting on my chair (and I catch them), I give them a good shouting at. The toms mostly apologise and stalk off, but it's a different matter with queens.  
Adult queens (such as Bombalurina or Jellyorum) will happily leave with the usual 'Sorry', but not the kittens. The young females will just sit there and giggle. It shouldn't work, but it does. It makes me all embarrassed, and there's no doubt that I will then run back to my den with a bright red face.  
How do they do that? I hear you ask. Well, it's because Etcetera told them that I get nervous around giggling kittens. Darn her, she's always telling everyone secret things about me! She has such a big mouth, and yet i'm still attracted heavily to her. How much I would love to just hold and kiss her all day long. That would be nice.

At any rate, I was on my way to my chair. It was still dark and I didn't see anyone around. So I clambered up to the top of it and sat down.

It is always nice to sit down on my chair because you can see everything from up there. I can happily look up, to watch the clouds during the day and the stars during the night. I can watch the sun rise or set, depending on my mood.  
But more to the point, it allows me to watch all of the goings-on in the junkyard below. I can spy on everyone's activities. I can watch everyone get up or go to bed... It's simply the best place in the yard.

At this particular point in time, I was waiting for the sun to rise. It was almost time, when I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. That's a curious phenomena. I've never seen anyone get up this early before... he must have had a good reason.  
Squinting my eyes, I managed to make out that it was Tugger. I had an incling as to why he was getting up so early.

Now it's true that the Rum Tum Tugger IS a curious cat. But he is curious to quite an extent. He'll happily strut about, acting quite arrogant (but not as arrogant as this Wednesday was, mind) and flirt with as many queens as possible.  
He will then usually spend the evening with Bombalurina. The only times that he doesn't spend the evening with her is when one of the other, younger queens is in heat.  
Now don't get me wrong. I like Tugger. Especially because he does me a favour by ignoring Etcetera, and not flirting too much with her. My only problem with him is that his daily schedule could be deemed more than simply 'curious'.

My idea was that he had spent the previous evening with a queen other than Bombalurina, and was now about to find Bomby and spend some time with her. And I was right (of course), but I did not want to be.  
For who was to exit the den behind him? None other than my own dear brother, Tumblebrutus.

This then turned into one of those moments where you feel as if your mind were being smashed to pieces by a wet sponge, wrapped around a golden Buddha that was polished to such an extent that it now had completely lost it's warranty from the arrogant friend that sold it to you in the first place. In other words, confusing and painful. The situation then took a drastic leap for the worst when my chair began to wobble, and I fell instantly to the floor.

All I can remember is everything going black...

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End of Chapter One. Please leave a review for me, so that I can improve and continue. Danke schoen.******  
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	2. The Information Is Given

I don't own CATS. Of course I don't. I do, however, own this piece of writing.

I'd also like to mention that I adore constructive criticism. Please leave some for me, as it can only help to make the story much more enjoyable.

I am starting this after having received 2 very generous reviews, praising me gloriously. If I could give those two a great big 'thank you' (you know who you are), and then follow that by dedicating this chapter to you both.

Oh yes, and please do be aware that everything that you read from the title down represents the FICTIONAL view of a FICTIONAL character. I may share the view of the character on a certain subject, but then again I may not. Bear that in mind while reading.

Now on with the story...

**Pouncival's Tale**

**Chapter Two - The information is given**

Now I will admit that I lied earlier. I do, infact, remember more than just the room going black. A fair bit more. When I say a 'fair bit', I do of course mean a 'freaking heckload'... if that term is accepted in conversation nowadays. In fact, if any of you readers do not like this term, or are otherwise offended by it, I would appreciate if you were to leave this fic alone right now.

Now that I've ridden of the first load (or the heck-haters, as I like to call them), I would like to mention to all that I do condone homosexuality. I have no displeasure towards them, and firmly believe that all that hate (or are otherwise hurtful in speech towards) gays and/or lessies should be hung, drawn, quartered, and then stamped on for a little bit. Not too long, mind... just long enough to get the point across. If they can still breathe, it's too little... whereas if they are actually so flat that they could be rolled up to make a large cigar, then it's too much. I know that this is common knowledge, but some of the lesser State Governments refuse to tell their people of these things.

Anyway.

I woke up in a pitch black room. Odd, because I'm sure that I fell in the early morning. Oh yes... I fell off of my chair. I'd bet my hat that someone is sitting on it right now... but then again, I don't actually have a hat. So that's a win-win bet for me!

I don't actually know where I learnt that phrase... maybe I heard a human say it, or something like that. Or maybe, in a previous life, I was a hat-obsessed human, who worked from 9 till 5 every Sunday in a little shop called 'BRACKENHAUSE', who said that quote every day because it was his job, and then maybe he could have had a really good-looking partner who he would come home to every night and say 'iiiiit's ME!' because that would be our thing, and... no, wait... I heard Munk say the hat thing yesterday. Darn... I would've liked those aforementioned living arrangements. I think I'll make a note of that.

NOTE TO SELF:- Become human and live with partner, and say 'it's ME!' every afternoon, but with 6 'i's instead of 1.

Right, now that that's out the way, I can continue.

So the room was dark. Really dark. I mean, you might think that it's dark under your duvet covers, but that's nothing compared to this. I mean it was so gosh darned dark, I couldn't even see myself think. No, wait, that didn't make much sense. I couldn't even hear myself think.

Again, sorry... I meant to say that I could hear myself think, but couldn't see anything in front of me.

At this point, I was honestly worried. Quite worried. Quite freaking worried. In fact, I was pretty much wetting myself with fear. I mean, it's one thing to wake up in a dark room but it's another to suddenly hear approaching footsteps, getting louder and louder...

At this point, I opened my eyes. Ah yes, that old chestnut. I must remember that for future reference.

NOTE TO SELF:- Open Eyes Ability to see.

I became a lot less worried at this point, when I saw Jenny coming towards me. "Good to see that you're awake, dear. You took quite a nasty little bump on your head. I did tell you that you shouldn't play on that chair." Jenny said, with a note of concern in her voice. I guess she had been worrying about me, but then again, who wouldn't?

"Yes... thank you..." I decided to reply, trying to sound as cool as possible... and absolutely failing in every single way. Oh well.

I think that this is a good point to pause the proceedings for a while. I can assure the esteemed reader that I shall continue my story later.. or else you will have the official right to thwack me upside the head with a lemon.


	3. Square 233 Recurring

I don't own CATS. Of course I don't. I do, however, own this piece of writing.

I'd also like to mention that I adore constructive criticism. Please leave some for me, as it can only help to make the story much more enjoyable.

I am starting this after having received 2 very generous reviews, praising me gloriously. If I could give those two a great big 'thank you' (you know who you are), and then follow that by dedicating this chapter to you both.

Oh yes, and please do be aware that everything that you read from the title down represents the FICTIONAL view of a FICTIONAL character. I may share the view of the character on a certain subject, but then again I may not. Bear that in mind while reading.

Now on with the story...

PS- You can stop thwacking me with lemons, now. I get the point...

**Pouncival'sTale**

**Chapter Three - "Square 2.44 Recurring"**

So there I was, lying in bed, watching as Jenny liberally told me about how dangerous it was for a cat my age to play about on a chair. At least, that's what I assumed she was talking about. I could care less about her rants, as they always have a moral to them, and that moral always makes me think. I always like to think that she is talking rubbish all the time, but the annoying fact is that she's always talking the truth, and that her rants always have a purpose. I always -

The writer of this fanfic would like to formally apologise for the complete over-usage of the word 'always' in the previous paragraph. It was wrong of him to do such a thing, and he thus says with the most deepest of regrets- "Sorry". The previous section will now be re-written, with something else replacing each instance of the word 'always'.

So there I was, lying in bed, watching as Jenny liberally told me about how dangerous it was for a cat my age to play about on a chair. At least, that's what I assumed she was talking about. I could care less about her rants, as they something else have a moral to them, and that moral something else makes me -

The writer of this fanfic would like to formally apologise for the complete and utter poorness of his last joke. He realises that he isn't funny at all, and thus shouldn't try to cause humour to occur through such pathetic paths, and then add in bits that have nothing to do with the story, just to fill up space. He also.. Wait a minute...

Darn it. Back to the story...

I always -

Watch it...

I believe that Jenny really enjoys looking out for me. She tends to be quite a caring person, and it wouldn't be going too far to say that I do idolise her. Slightly. Well, I mean, aside from the wrinkly skin, greasy fur, lack of a mate and the breasts... I idolise her. She's a nice lady.

Actually, scratch that last bit. The breasts sound like a nice perk.

At any rate, she soon finished off her rant and sat down next to me. I looked up at her, to see her give me that motherly smile that she reserved only for me.. she leant over and kissed my forehead, then spoke in a soft voice.. "Don't go scaring me like that again, dear... you had me worried sick!" She wrapped her arms around and hugged me close; I returned the favour, purring. All hopes of me acting cool were totally lost at this moment, but I felt the need to allow Jenny to hug me. She needs the attention, I'm sure..

ahem. So anyway, we hugged. After a good few minutes she finally let go of me and drew back, still with that warm smile pasted over her otherwise motherly face. My eyes drew down to look over her body.. I totally take back what I said earlier. For an older queen, she's not that bad looking. In fact she's rather attractive. I checked over her body again, leaving my eyes to hang on her chest... and I soon found myself on the receiving end of a painful slap. And It hurt. A lot. Just to give you an example of how much it hurt, I can tell you that I was rubbing my cheeks for a long while after that... No, not those cheeks. That's just disgusting.

Actually, that's really quite disappointing. You laughed at that, I bet. I am telling you this story in the hope that it would bring across some form of clever, witty humour. You've gone and spoilt that now. It disappoints me.

And so anyway. After the painful slap, Jenny rushed out of the infirmary. I was later informed by Tumblebrutus that she had been blushing quite profusely, but I wouldn't know. I can't see the colour red, you see. I see it as clear as water, and also just as uncoloured. Sadly, this means that I constantly get confused and get scared when the tap is bleeding or when my nose is dripping water. I think it all goes back to my childhood days...

.._((For the sake of the reader, this story from __Pouncival about his childhood has been scratched, due to it's sheer dullness and being of an extremely boring nature)).._

..and that is why they invented television. Sorry, got stuck in a rut there. Got stuck in a rut there. Got stuck in a rut there. The key is repetition. The key is repetition. The key is repetition.

Ugh, sorry. Those three jokes up there were just plain awful. I apologise.

SO ANYWAY. I thought it best for me to get up and out of bed then, as I found myself unable to catch another wink of sleep. Not a wink, anyway. If I had tried extremely hard, I might have been able to force myself into a quick blink of sleep, but... it wasn't worth it. I got up, and headed outside for my den. On my way back, I shot a look across the 'yard, to see Tugger calling ordering to a cat in his den. I couldn't see who was in his den. He did it in a foreign tongue, so that nobody else would know what he meant.

"Zieh dir was an!" I heard him shout. Sadly, the only German I ever learnt was how to say 'Pimp'. It's 'Zuhaelter', by the way. Just so you know that I'm not lying. Pounci learnt the German for 'they built a monument', but... well... whatever.

After hearing his bizarre words, I continued walking onwards towards my den. The walk was a long and tiring one, in which I must have stumbled many times. That could have possibly been attributed to the medicine Jenny gave me, as it did leave me feeling pretty funny. It was the most weird of things, for as I was about to collapse to the floor, Etcetera caught me. Yes, the Goddess herself caught me before I fell to the ground. Before I could say anything, I felt her stroke my headfur. 'Just one word,' was what she said, purring softly as she said it. She later told me that she learnt the phrase from an old friend of hers named Aurelie, who... hold on.

Ah. That was just the lawyers on the phone. They said 'Quit it with the Wir Sind Helden references, or we'll sue.' I guess I'll just have to go for a different band to get my jokes from.

'Hey, Etcy..' I whispered, looking up at her. 'I wanna hold your ha-a-aaand...'

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And so it is over! You have just finished reading the long awaited third chapter... and don't I feel good having gotten it out of my system? I assure you, it was the reviewers that drove me to write this chapter. I'll be trying to write more as the days go on, but i'd adore some more reviews! Tell me how I could improve.. tell me if you love it or not! That's all for now! Ciao! Sayonara! Byeeeee!


	4. Why you read this?

Author's Notes:-

is nursing a swollen head That's it, people. I am officially taking away all of your lemon-thwacking rights. You've all simply abused them, hitting me with lemons this way and that. I'm scared to leave the house now, for fear of an angry mob waiting outside to clobber me with more lemons. I hope you're all happy now.

Anyways, RUG and ALW, blah blah blahbiddyblah... And NO MORE CUSTARD! Have fun reading the fourth chapter, guys.

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_**Chapter 4: Why am I still even bothering to write this drivel; surely you don't actually care anymore, do you?**_

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I kept on staring up into Etcetera's eyes. There was something about them that mesmorized me. Something strange and bizarre yet so captivating that I couldn't possibly turn away. Was love this feeling? Was love what I thought of Jenny earlier? Was love what I thought of Munkustrap a week ago? Was love what I thought of Jellylorum a year ago? Was love what I thought of the Everlasting Cat 10 years ago? Was love what I thought of my mother 18 years ago? Was love what I thought of my mother's womb 18 and a quarter years ago? I don't know.

I suppose everyone has their own feelings towards what love is and how it affects others. Just the other day I accidentally caught a glimpse of Munkustrap and Demeter 'playing' through their den window (When I say 'accidentally', what I actually mean is that I had to stand on Tumble's back to look through the window. But that's beside the point). When I saw Demeter bare all in front of him, she looked so defenseless; so weak and insecure. But the sight of Munkustrap's blazing black eyes, strong male arms and long, hard, pink bracelet (which I gave him the week previous, just to be able to make that terrible innuendo) seemed to settle her heart and they were able to make feisty, beautiful love... with the two kissing each other all over.. their paws fondling and delving to touch the other in places I've never seen being touched before.. with Munkustrap bending her over and- I MEAN.. umm... yes. Well. Anyway..

Porn aside, I was currently in a rather precarious position. If I said anything wrong I could utterly ruin my chances with her. If I said something right, however, I would do to heighten them. So I said the first thing that came into my mind.

"I AM NOT A MAN-HAMMOCK!"

She cocked her head at me, and I realised for the first time that day what an absolute idiot I was being. That wasn't what I was supposed to say at all. In fact, I felt as if some bizarre outside force had forced me to do it. I felt weird, much like a piece of purple ice cream. It doesn't know why it's purple. Heck, nobody does! I mean honestly, who would eat purple ice cream? What possible flavour could a piece of flipping pur- oh. Right. Blackberry.

I took a breath or two and licked my lips. All I really wanted to do was throw her down on the bed, rip off all of her clothes (she doesn't have any but that's far from irrelevant) and lick her body all over. Her fur tastes tangy, I bet. I put five dollars on it (even though i'm on UK currency) that it does.

Anyway, I decided to change my answer.

"Go back and screw?"

It was with these words and a heavy heart that I knew that I had blown it. She blushed dramatically, much like a queen would blush had she been asked to copulate. Which she had been. Explanation True. Gratitude False. Space-filling Shameless.

Anyways, in a fit of peak she dropped me to the floor and stormed off to her own den in a right old huff... okay, okay.. it wasn't _that _old a huff. Can a 'huff' have an age? But still worth mentioning as it has properties of a rather eventful nature somehow intertwined in the tawdry web of perpetual darkness which circumvents the air upon which it stands. So there.

I got up. I ran over to her. I told her that I love her. As simple as that. Just 'BAM, I love you'. I make that loud sound because in my needless haste to get over to her, I might have accidentally stomped on her left hindpaw... and she probably didn't hear my beautiful words of love as she was far too busy jumping up and down whilst cursing loudly. I knew immediately that this was my chance to get in with her feelings so, with the upmost speed and sheer lack nor want for caution, I picked her up and dashed into my den. The moment we were inside, I lay her down on a cushion.

I mean, a big cushion. I mean like, really big. Freaking huge. This was like, the Zeus of all cushions. Normal cushions are like, Mercury or whatever the guy with winged shoes was called. I asked Munkustrap this same question recently and he informed me that it was Icarus. Although I think he's wrong, 'cuz I would know if it was that, 'cuz that's such a funny name. I digress. The cushion was a large freaker. As opposed to the cushion in the corner - quite small in comparison. If that were a God, it'd be the 'God of Paddling Pools'. And you'll agree that _that_ is a useless waste of a potential God. Why don't we just do the Hula? That's much more enjoyable than talking about Gods and such. Besides, the paddling pool joke was pathetic and I don't even get it.

Knock Knock. Who's there? Woody. Woody who? Woody live in a Museum? WHAT. THE. HELL. That's not a joke... that doesn't even make sense. God damn it.

Anyways, I whipped it out and- No, wait... I didn't whip it out. Sorry. I think I got down on my knees and began nursing Etcetera's swollen hindpaw, first rubbing it softly and then beginning a massage. After seeing that she was really getting into it, I could do nothing but ebb it on by beginning to lick and clean the part which clearly hurt the most. The fact that she began murring and making little soft moans gave me the all clear to softly suckle on other parts... she was in ecstasy - And I was happy to provide it. Tangy, too. That'll be a fiver. C'moooonnnnn.

It was at this point that all time froze somewhat. I realised that I had strayed from the point. I mean, things were beginning to go my way. If I got lucky, I might even get laid. Properly. Old-skewl style... well. Maybe not 'old-skewl'. 'Cuz that's rippin' it up, dawg. The best I can muster is old-school with a hint of MC Hammer.

Stop. Pounci time. Things just don't go your way on a day like this. Even if you'd like to think that they might... they simply won't. I know this from experience - Why, who could ever forget that it was a damn Wednesday. You could smell it in the air. Wednesdays have a smell about them. A disgusting, nauseating smell that isn't just because we live in a Junkyard. Otherwise all the other days would smell like Wednesdays, and Lobster Friday would smell like Ocean-Breeze Sunday. And if I had a choice of either watching MC Hammer do his thing or the TNT Commercial Gaming Breakdown, it'd be TNT all the way, baby. That show is funny.

Knock Knock. Who's there? Gladys. Gladys who? Gladys not me who's been kidnapped.

...it hurts my brain.

GOD-DAMN I hate Wednesdays. Something bad was about to happen, and everyone reading this story knew it. They all were sat at their computers, possibly smoking (if you are, you're disgusting), possibly drunk (dirty habit also), possibly mastur- I'll quit while this story is still legal in all states of America. The first one almost got banned in the capital because it mentioned Homosexuality in a light that wasn't derogatory (You get it all in this story, you see? Comedy, music references, open-mindedness, political satire...) so I have to watch my mouth. 'Gay people can't get married' says George Bush. 'Why?' asks me. 'Because they're _icky_' replies the almighty Overlord and he proceeds to press a red button, ordering hundreds more civilians to a place where they shouldn't be in the first place. Interesting enough. 'They have WOMDs.' says Bush. 'Really?' asks me. 'No, but they got oil. An' I _want_ oil.' he replies, before adding afterwards: ''cuz it's _icky._' He proceeds to continue acting like a Monkey and running the country like one. I'd publish the interview online, but the FBI would be on me like a heartbeat. I don't know how a heartbeat can be 'on you' per se, but nevermind. Percy? Forget it.

Where was I?

Right. The old-school style hindpaw-licking. And suckling. And carressing. And nosing. And nuzzling. And nibbling. And gnawing. Well wouldn't you just know it, she moaned in pleasure so loud that it attracted Tugsy himself to the scene. And he was maaaaaaaaad. You shoulda seen his face: Red, like a sunrise. No, scratch that, like a sunset. No... more like a strawberry. In any case, he was angry and not afraid to show it - he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me away from her. I had to prepare myself for the shouting of a lifetime...

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Okay, guys. It's done. It's there. Finally. X3 Sorry it's half a year late... but eh. I had exams and shizz and got writer's block. You all may bow down to this story, if you will, but i'd prefer you wait until the next installment of 'Pounci's Tale'. Sayonara!


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